


Miscellaneous KnB Drabbles

by Lys ap Adin (lysapadin)



Series: Drabble Posts [6]
Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Drabble Collection, Ficlet Collection, Multi, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-11-08
Updated: 2013-08-08
Packaged: 2017-11-18 06:15:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 16,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/557810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lysapadin/pseuds/Lys%20ap%20Adin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Miscellaneous KnB drabbles and ficlets.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> More stuff from Tumblr; updates as warranted.

**Aomine, Kagami, Kuroko | Akashi/Himuro | Kagami/Kuroko | Aomine/Kagami/Kise/Kuroko | Midorima/Kise | Kuroko | Midorima and Kagami**

**Aomine, Kagami, and Kuroko, inspired by[some pictures from this set](http://www.pixiv.net/member_illust.php?mode=medium&illust_id=29372059)  
#jerking off over basketball**

1.  
When Tetsuya closes his eyes and slides his fingers down the length of his cock, he sees Aomine's face in the darkness behind his eyelids, transformed like a fuzzy photograph brought suddenly into focus. He can't stop thinking about Aomine's eyes, alert again, focused on the challenge in front of him, or the way Aomine has shed the discontented, indolent expression that he's worn since middle school, but it's the thought of Aomine smiling again (not smirking or scowling, not _bored_ anymore) that makes Tetsuya bite down on his knuckle to muffle the sound he makes as he comes undone.

2.  
Taiga wraps his fist around his cock, closes his eyes, and sees him again, Aomine Daiki on the court, impossibly fast cuts and unfeasible shots and strength that really is as miraculous as it is ridiculous. He sets his teeth against his lips and strokes his cock faster as the memory makes his blood surge: _this_ time, he was better, _this_ time he and Kuroko won through, _this_ time the game was theirs, but who knows what Aomine will meet them with _next_ time?

He leans his head back and groans as he comes, and can't wait to find out.

3.  
Daiki closes his eyes and doesn't think of anything at all when he slides his hand down into his shorts. He doesn't have to conjure up images of anything to help him along while he strokes himself off—doesn't need to. He's fizzing with the unaccustomed energy that drives his hand up and down his cock until he's teetering on the edge of coming. He remembers this feeling from before, from when basketball was still fun. It might be fun again now, he thinks, and that's it, he's coming, falling into the promise of opponents who won't ever back down.

 

 **Domesticity meme**  
#Akashi and Himuro because why not?  
  
Akashi's is an orderly mind and an orderly life, filled with quiet and calm and tradition and the absolute certainty that this day will be very like the one before it, because that is how Akashi prefers it.

Akashi is very good at getting precisely what he prefers.

Himuro intrudes upon this life like a bray of laughter in the middle of a symphony, too casual and too Americanized, not particularly interested in tradition and not inclined to bow his head to anyone, either.

By all the rules of logic, it shouldn't work. _They_ shouldn't work, at least not past the first week, by which point Akashi should have tried to kill Himuro for disrupting his peaceful existence (Himuro has heard stories from Taiga, who does his best to be supportive and still gives him Very Disappointed looks when Akashi's name comes up) or Himuro should have walked straight out the door after the umpteenth gentle cough and "But really, I prefer things _this_ way" (Akashi sees no reason to adjust his routines when they are so clearly the only right and proper way of doing things).

And yet. Somehow they continue on, in all defiance of expectation (and arguments about the proper way to squeeze toothpaste from the tube).

 

**Domesticity meme  
#Kuroko is something of a scientist at heart**

It's not that Tetsuya set out to do it, precisely, except that he actually did. Subconsciously at first, perhaps, but then with increasing deliberation as the weeks turned to months slipping by. It was one part curiosity to two parts his admittedly regrettable sense of humor—just how long was Taiga going to last before he noticed?

The answer was four months and three days, and Tetsu maintained that if he hadn't had the nerve to replace the broken-down but shockingly comfortable couch with one only slightly less comfortable (but far less likely to be harboring nascent civilizations down among the cushions), Taiga would never have noticed that Tetsu had moved in.

 

**Microfic meme**  
#AoKagaKiseKuro  
#try saying that three times fast 

**1\. Angst**

Ryouta laughs, because otherwise he'd cry: he just can't unstick himself from Aominecchi, but Aominecchi is completely hung up on Kurokocchi, and Kurokocchi has resolutely fixed his attention on Kagamicchi.

And Kagamicchi is an absolute zero on the Kinsey scale and is therefore possibly the only one of them who has the slightest chance at actually being happy.

At least they still have basketball, Ryouta tells himself, because that's better than nothing.

 

**2\. AU [I swear I don't actually like vampires]**

One vampire, Taiga could have handled that all by himself, no sweat. He was just that good, and besides, blondy was probably more interested in the cut of Taiga's battered leather jacket than anything else. ("How could you treat Gucci like that?" he'd wailed while Taiga was trying to stuff a stake through his sternum. Then he'd cartwheeled away from Taiga, apparently to sulk.)

Two vampires, well, okay, he'd have to work up a sweat doing it, but still. Well within his capabilities, even if the second vampire was a complete asshole about it. ("What, this is what hunters are these days?" he'd sneered, batting aside Taiga's attempt to take his head with one hand. "You interrupted Night of the Giving Head for this? _Boring_.")

Three vampires, though. That was a problem, especially since Taiga had never even seen the third one coming, not till he was on his knees with sharp nails pressing his chin up. Taiga stared up into eyes the color of icebergs, swallowed hard, and braced himself for the end.

The third vampire looked down at him, too thoughtful by half, and said, "You're wrong. This one isn't boring at all."

 

**3\. Crack [hey, it's not catfic!]**

Kise kept going around in circles, trying to get a good look at them and apparently incapable of remembering the existence of mirrors in the world. Aomine was still rolling around on his stomach, laughing beneath the rustle of feathers.

Taiga was too busy to pay attention to either of them or the unfamiliar weight that had sprouted from his own shoulders, because Kuroko was hunched under the inky sweep of his own wings and sulking quite distinctively. He patted Kuroko's shoulder. "It's all right," he said, "we already knew you were evil anyway." 

That just made Kuroko sulk harder, though Taiga didn't know why.

 

**4\. Crossover [KHR, because of reasons]**

Later they will say that it began when Aomine turned from looking at Kagami to Tetsuya and said, "Really, this guy, Tetsu?" while Kise tapped a finger against his chin and said, "I don't know, Aominecchi, I could see it, maybe." That, they will say, is the moment that Akashi Seijuurou's position as the Teikou Ninth began to crumble.

Tetsuya knows the truth, and it is this: Akashi never really held their Family to begin with. His power over them began to fade the first time Tetsuya ever witnessed him order Teikou people to battle without concern for anything but Teikou's ultimate victory, because that was the first time Tetsuya thought _No, it should not be like this._

 

**5\. First time**

Kagami is as red as his hair and doesn't seem to know where to put his eyes, let alone his hands, and Kise is pushing at Aomine, who, catlike, seems to have expanded to take up the entirety of the futons they have spread across Kagami's floor, and is laughing a little bit too loudly to be as confident as he seems to be. Aomine is watching him, though, and all he says is, "Hey, Tetsu, how do you even think this is gonna work?"

"Like this," Tetsuya tells them, and he twines his fingers through Taiga's, sets his other hand against Ryouta's shoulder, and leans down to press his mouth against Daiki's.

 

**6\. Fluff**

The rain is drumming hard against the windows and the roof, and everything outside the space of their apartment is grey and chill. Inside is different—they're all of them here, no one traveling for basketball or work or running errands. Daiki is stretched out on the couch, asleep or most of the way there, with his head in Tetsuya's lap. Tetsuya is reading, absorbed in it and probably not even aware of the fact that he is sliding his fingers through Daiki's hair.

Taiga is sitting on the floor next to Ryouta, muttering under his breath as he navigates his character through a post-apocalyptic landscape and steadily kills zombies. Ryouta leans against the warm bulk of his shoulder, not particularly interested in the killing of zombies or Taiga's curses, inventive though they are, and smiles.

When Taiga glances at him, raising his eyebrows, Ryouta only shrugs, because it's good to be home.

 

**7\. Humor**

Daiki doesn't have a dog in this fight—hah!—so he feels perfectly comfortable sitting back and laughing while Ryouta and Tetsu lay siege to Taiga, because the spectacle of a grown-ass man cowering in fear before the horrifying menace of a beagle puppy is never _not_ going to be funny.

"Please, can we keep him, Kagamicchi?" Ryouta whines. "Please, please, _please_?"

Come to think of it, watching a grown-ass man whine like a toddler is also pretty damn funny.

The puppy barks, wriggling in Tetsu's hands, and Taiga flinches back. "Can't we just get a cat instead?" he says. "Daiki, you want a cat, right? Cats are great!"

Daiki just snorts at him. "Have some dignity, man. You know you're going to give in anyway."

"I am not!" Taiga snaps, but then Tetsu says, quiet and sad, "Please?" and Taiga does anyway.

 

**8\. Hurt/Comfort**

"This isn't fair at all," Ryouta said, but it sounded more like _dis iddn't faiw at awl_ thanks to all the congestion. 

Daiki would have agreed with him, but by the time he finished sneezing several times in a row, hard enough that his head—aching, dizzy, and stuffed with snot and cottonwool—felt as though it were about to detach itself from his shoulders and float away altogether, he'd forgotten what he wanted to say.

Tetsu didn't say anything; he was buried under several blankets and the only thing anyone could see of him was a tuft of his hair. The only reason they were sure he was still alive was that he growled any time he was disturbed.

"I told you that you should have gotten the damn flu shots," Taiga said, relentlessly healthy and spiteful about it. He plunked a tray down. "Cheer up, I made you chicken soup."

"I hate you," Daiki told him, but grabbed a bowl and spoon anyway.

 

**9\. Smut**

It's true, it does take a bit of choreographing, but not as much as anyone outside seems to think. When they're together, one thing follows after another, as naturally as the turning of the seasons. This time, Ryouta spreads himself across Daiki's hips, moving with him and arching against him, and tips his head back to take Tetsuya's cock, swallowing him all the way down and humming around the sleek, hot weight of it, and still somehow manages to have enough coordination to fist Taiga off. This time it probably only works because Ryouta is a genius at copying things and Daiki has a well-curated porn collection and is not stingy about sharing it with the rest of them, but that doesn't matter. Next time it will be someone else's turn to be in the middle, or not, and they'll figure that out, too.

 

**10\. UST**

Tetsuya watches Aomine-kun play in something like wonder, the same way he might watch a great cat hunt or a wild horse gallop. Aomine-kun plays basketball like he was born to do it, taking a joy in it so pure in its intensity that it hurts Tetsuya's heart, a little, to see it. 

Kise-kun is different, but no less fascinating for it. Kise-kun is beautiful and conscious of it; his game sparkles as much as he does, and Tetsuya can't help wondering what lies behind that—what Kise-kun's game might become, someday.

After everything goes wrong, Kagami-kun's game—open and free, rough-edged and still brilliant—is what gives Tetsuya the hope to go on with, hope that he can regain the things he's lost, and hope that perhaps, just perhaps, he might even be able to have more than that.

 

**Microfic meme  
#Midorima and Kise are surprisingly compatible**

**1\. Angst**

Midorima never stopped watching him. Ryouta could feel that quiet gaze following him around the gym and school, measured and thoughtful, seeking him out in every crowd and at every opportunity. But though he waited for it, created opportunities to linger after practice, Midorima never said anything. Eventually Ryouta stopped waiting.

It wasn't until a long time after that it occurred to him that he could have said something himself. But by then, it was too late.

 

**2\. AU**

Shintarou performed the exam with the same careful efficiency as always, taking his patient's temperature and checking his blood pressure, listening to his heart and checking his ears and throat. As he worked, he could feel himself wanting to frown, but kept that off his face—one of his early mentors had warned him, once, never to frown in front of a patient lest they take the wrong idea from it. Even so, he wanted very much to frown now. 

Finally he took the stethoscope from his ears and settled back on his stool. "Kise-san," he said carefully, "Could you please describe your symptoms again? They, er, don't seem to be manifesting in a physical fashion." There, that was nicely diplomatic; it did not do to tell a supermodel that there was nothing wrong with him and that he was wasting Shintarou's valuable time.

Kise turned a wide-eyed look on him, the same heart-melting gaze that meant that he couldn't walk past the nurses' station without a gale of sighs following after him. "It's my heart." He reached out and actually took Shintarou's hand to press it against his chest. "Can't you feel how it's pounding? You're the only one who can fix it, Doctor."

Shintarou blinked at him, the first inklings of enlightenment finally beginning to penetrate his confusion. Kise continued to give him an earnest look and did not release his hand.

"There is something profoundly wrong with your brain," Shintarou told him, but he did not try to pull his hand away.

 

**3\. Crack**

"I'm begging you," Ryouta had said, and "It will pay very well, just think of all the lucky items you can buy," and "Just one day, that's all I'm asking," and finally, "Please, Midorimacchi, please?"

Shockingly enough, that last actually worked somehow, which is why Kise Ryouta's most valuable possession is a framed photo from a magazine shoot, him and Midorima shirtless and tangled up together on a couch and Midorima's hand tucked into the back pocket of the designer jeans Kise is wearing.

Midorimacchi _still_ blushes every time he sees it. 

 

**4\. Crossover [Petshop of Horrors]**

"Wait," Shintarou says while Kise coos over the—the—it looks like a small child, a girl, with long silky rabbit ears, but Kise insists on saying that it's just a sweet little bunny, because Kise is an idiot. "Where did you get that?"

"Oh," Kise says, vague. "Some place over in Shinjuku. Strange name. Count D's, I think?"

"We are taking her back," Shintarou says. "We are taking her back _right now_." And he does not let Kise's tearful protests sway him in the least, because every time the—whatever it is—looks at him, she smiles, fey and knowing.

On the way home, they stop at a perfectly normal pet store and Shintarou buys him two kittens and a puppy to make up for it, and counts himself lucky to have had such a narrow escape.

 

**5\. First time**

"Oh," Shintarou says, a little shocked by how good that feels. "Oh."

Ryouta slants a smile up at him, this one small and private and just for Shintarou, and does it again.

 

**6\. Fluff**

The kitchen is a mess when Ryouta finally lets him come near it, and Shintarou has to repress a sigh (why is it that Ryouta can't cook anything without getting every dish in the house dirty?). But he sits down at the table and closes his eyes when Ryouta tells him to, listens to the rattling of cabinets and the clatter of dishes, wondering what on earth Ryouta has gotten up to this time.

"Now open them," Ryouta says, so Shintarou does.

There is a bowl sitting in front of him, steaming gently, the mochi already beginning to dissolve. Shintarou stares at it, then looks up at Ryouta, who is jittering from foot to foot and twisting his fingers together and beaming anxiously. "Did you—make this?" Shintarou asks.

"From scratch!" Ryouta jitters some more. "I got the recipe from my grandmother, and I think I got it right, but—"

"I'm sure it's perfect," Shintarou says, and the smile blooms across Ryouta's face. 

 

**7\. Humor**

"Oh my god," Shintarou moans. "Oh my _god_."

"I told you that googling our names together wasn't a good idea," Ryouta says, absolutely unsympathetic. "Fangirls are crazy, Midorimacchi. Completely crazy." He pauses, and his silence has a reflective quality to it. "Pretty inventive though, I have to admit. Even if they _do_ insist on making you top in everything just because you're taller."

Shintarou just covers his eyes and moans some more.

 

**8\. Hurt/Comfort**

"Ow, ow, owwwwww!" Ryouta whined, writhing around on the bed. 

"Hold _still_ ," Shintarou commanded, pinning him down with a knee and digging his thumb into the knotted muscle. Ryouta whined louder, at least until the knot gave way. Then he went limp against the sheets, whimpering.

"You're so brutal, Midorimacchi," he complained.

"Stop whining. It got the job done," Shintarou told him, and rubbed his fingers over the tender spot gently.

 

**9\. Smut**

Shintarou grips the pillow over his head, knuckles white, throws his head back and shows the long line of his throat as he gasps, and Ryouta holds his knees wide, so wide, and rocks into him again, just for the way Shintarou's voice wavers and breaks on the syllables of his name.

 

**10\. UST**

Wait, Ryouta thinks the day he catches himself watching Midorimacchi wrapping his fingers up after a game and wanting to peel that tape away again, with his _teeth_ , wait, what?

But by that point it's much too late to save himself.

 

**Merman Kuroko  
#Riko has low tastes in literature**

"I want you to know that I hate each and every one of you," Kuroko said, voice throbbing with sincerity. "I hate you so very much."

"Stop talking," Riko scolded him. "You're going to ruin your makeup."

"Do I look like I care about my makeup?" Kuroko asked her, which was a fair enough point. His was not the face of a man who cared.

Riko poked him in the shoulder anyway. "I care," she said, and went back to painting the glitter along Kuroko's eyelids, outlining them in the sweeps of pale blue glitter, just the color of shallow water while Kuroko set his lips into a distinctly annoyed frown.

"I think he needs more sequins on his tail," Kiyoshi, ever helpful, suggested. "And maybe on his chest, to carry the theme through."

"I don't think we have time to add any more sequins to his tail," Hyuuga pointed out. "The float has to be ready in..." He checked his watch "Half an hour."

"Well, maybe some glitter on his chest, then?" Kiyoshi said. "Something sort of swirly and artistic?"

Riko finished painting the glitter along Kuroko's eyelids and stepped back to study the effect; the sweep of the glitter around his eyes, blending into the seafoam-colored glitter on his cheekbones did lend a certain alien cast to Kuroko's features. "I don't know," she said, tapping her chin, looking at Kuroko's thin, pale chest and the sweep of the lamé tail folded around his hips. "I think less may be more, here."

Kiyoshi had no shame about sulking and scuffed his feet. "Awww..."

Riko handed him the glitter and the brush. "Here, you can play with this yourself later to your heart's content," she said, and clapped her hands. "Okay, where's our drowning sailor?"

Kagami stood up, moving gingerly in his tight breeches and flowing poet's shirt. "I hate all of you," he said, glowering.

"Yes, yes," Riko said, impatiently, pointing at the float. "But we are going to win this pageant. Now get into place."

Kagami shuffled into place on the float and gingerly leaned against Kuroko, who just as gingerly put an arm around him.

Riko sighed. "Can you at least try to make it look natural?" she asked them, which got her identical resentful glares. "Remember, think of the training camps we can pay for with the prize money."

They shuffled a little closer; at least they were _trying_ (even if they were failing miserably).

Riko sighed again and checked the time; there wasn't much left before the floats went live, but—there was an awful lot of prize money on the line. She cracked her knuckles and advanced on the float, smiling.

At least Kuroko and Kagami had the good sense to look properly frightened of her as she did, because it was time to put everything she'd ever learned from reading doujinshi into practice.

That prize money was _theirs_ , and not a one of Kuroko or Kagami's qualms was going to stand in the way of that.

 

**Midorima and Kagami, shopping  
#Kagami is not wrong**

"This is not fair," Midorima pointed out, loping along the sand next to Taiga. The plastic bags he carried rattled and clanked with every long stride; Taiga hoped that he didn't end up with any of the drinks that guy was carrying. "It really isn't."

Taiga grunted; it wasn't as though Midorima actually needed encouragement to keep talking, because the guy had not shut up once since Riko-kantoku had interrupted their impromptu one-on-one and told them to go fetch refreshments if they still had that much energy. At least this time she'd thrown some money at them and the cost of sports drinks for two teams wasn't going to be coming out of _his_ pocket.

"I don't even go to your school!" Midorima continued. "I don't see why your coach feels like she can order me around however she pleases."

Taiga rolled his eyes. "Kuroko," he pointed out, which earned him a sidelong, baffled look from Midorima. "Generation of Miracles. Pretty much adopted all you assholes last year, didn't we?"

He counted a full ten long strides before Midorima found his voice again; the resulting tirade lasted all the way back to the inn where their teams were waiting.

Taiga didn't have the heart to tell him that all the protests in the world didn't make it any less true. After all, Nakatani-san _had_ let Riko-kantoku deliver that order, hadn't he?


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kuroko/Kise, showers | Imayoshi/Kasamatsu, boarding school | Kuroko/Kagami, snow | Midorima/Kise, gift exchange | Aomine & Momoi, holidays | Aomine & Momoi, cooking lessons | Kise & Momoi, bitching sessions | Midorima, choosing a high school | Imayoshi/Susa, study session

**#crystalusagi**  
#kuroko and kise. showers.  
#Kuroko tops everyone 

_You have to be quiet,_ Kuroko says, a murmur barely louder than the hiss of the spray and the drum of water against tile, and there is a spark of mischief in his eyes. _You don't want anyone to hear._ That's all the warning you get before he steps into your space and sets his hands against your chest and strokes them down, following the water as it streams across your skin. For a second you think he's going to wrap them around your cock and stroke you off just like that, but really, you know better than that. Kuroko doesn't know how to do things by halves, not basketball and not this, either. He sets his hands on your hips and grips them tight as he sinks to his knees, and the thing about Kurokocchi is that he is, and always has been, much stronger than he looks. When he leans forward and runs his tongue up the line of your cock, one long torturous slide of his mouth over sensitive skin, you try to move. He doesn't let you and looks up at you, wet hair slicked back from his face and eyelashes gone spiky, and _smiles_ just before he opens his mouth and wraps his lips around you.

In the end, you make a lot of noise anyway.

* * *

**#andreaphobia**  
#Catholic/boarding school basketball boys...  
#basically I know nothing about boarding school 

"You know," Yukio says, leaning back on his hands and lifting his hips, "I'm pretty sure that we're supposed to be making sure that everyone's in bed—their own beds—and not wandering around after curfew."

Imayoshi hums something between his teeth and hauls Yukio's slacks and shorts down. "Do tell."

Yukio kicks them the rest of the way off and hooks his ankle around Imayoshi's hip, pulling him up close. "It has something to do with making sure no one's causing trouble." 

Imayoshi hums again, something thoughtful, and leans in to mouth Yukio's throat, at least until Yukio thumps his shoulder to remind him about hickeys and their basic incompatibility with plausible deniability. "Seems like I may have heard a little something about that, once or twice." He nips Yukio's earlobe, because he's basically a bastard and knows that it makes Yukio's head fizz whenever he does that. "You have a reason for bringing that up right now?"

Yukio fights through the surge of hormones, because he does, actually. "Don't you think prefects ought to be setting a better example than this?" _This_ , of course, being a chance to reach down and get his hands on Imayoshi's ass so he can give it a good squeeze.

Imayoshi at least pretends like he's thinking it over before he fits himself between Yukio's knees and rubs up against him, slow and deliberate. "We're setting a fine example," he says, rolling their hips together until Yukio gives it up and groans. "We're showing them that you can get away with whatever you want, long as you don't get caught."

"You are a _terrible_ person," Yukio tells him, hitching himself closer and tracing his nails up Imayoshi's spine. It makes Imayoshi's breath stutter, just like always.

Imayoshi grins at him. "But can you say that I'm wrong?"

Yukio elects not to answer that and gets a hand down between them instead to stroke their cocks together. If the way Imayoshi groans sounds triumphant, well. It's all about plausible deniability, isn't it?

* * *

**#branch-and-root**  
#Kuroko/Kagami and snow  
#Kagami has opinions about cold weather 

Tetsuya was laughing at him, but Taiga couldn’t bring himself to care. He bunched his shoulders and huddled deeper into the questionable comfort of his scarf and glared. “Shut up, this sucks.”

Tetsuya, who didn’t even have his coat buttoned all the way up, the _jerk_ , folded his gloved hands together primly. “I didn’t say anything.” 

“You didn’t have to _say_ anything. I’ve met you, remember?” He knew perfectly well what Tetsuya looked like when he was amused, and Tetsuya was _definitely_ laughing at him right now. It was all in the crease of his eyes and the way they gleamed, like they did whenever he was feeling particularly evil. “It’s _cold_ , okay?” Cold, and slippery wherever the snow had begun to accumulate, and there were days when Taiga _really_ missed California.

Tetsuya did laugh then, soft as the hush of the snowflakes drifting down and catching in his hair. “If you say so.” He lifted his face up to the sky, smiling at the snow, then took a step closer to Taiga that let him press against Taiga’s shoulder. “Perhaps we should hurry home so you can get warm again.”

With Tetsuya, it was all in the subtle things, like the tilt of his smile and the laughter in his eyes. Taiga glanced at him and cleared his throat, pretty sure that Tetsuya wasn’t suggesting they hurry home so he could find another sweater to put on. “Yeah, maybe we should.”

If Tetsuya was going to offer incentives like that, he thought as they lengthened their strides, perhaps he could learn to tolerate the snow after all.

* * *

**#carabarks**  
#MidoKise gift exchanges  
#Midorima really is all tsundere 

Shintarou eyed the package in Ryouta's hands with a certain amount of trepidation. It looked innocuous enough; the wrapping paper was patterned with white on silver and both the creases in the paper and the profusion of curling ribbons at the top suggested that Ryouta had not been the one to wrap it. (Apparently Ryouta had never had cause to watch anyone wrap a present; certainly his own efforts in that direction had little but enthusiasm to commend them.) It was on the smaller side, but that didn't necessarily mean anything. Ryouta had been modeling for years now and had substantially more money in his bank accounts than he did restraint or common sense. There could be any number of small but outrageously expensive items beneath that gleaming wrapping paper, because Ryouta loved to spend money on the people he cared about.

Most improbably, Shintarou was first among that number, which was something Shintarou still didn't quite understand.

"You didn't have to—" he began, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

"Don't be ridiculous, it's your _birthday_." And so, it seemed, Ryouta felt that he _did_ have to, even though Shintarou had insisted that he didn't want to be fussed over.

Ryouta was very good at showing only what he wanted to have seen, but the ribbons on the package rustled, the white and silver curls moving gently. Shintarou suppressed his sigh and took the gift from him, hoping privately that they weren't about to have a repeat of his twentieth birthday or something equally excessive, and turned it over in his hands, looking for the ends of the ribbons. "I still say you shouldn't have." It was solid in his hands, with some heft—a book, perhaps?

"I wanted to." Ryouta was watching him closely as he began working the ribbon loose. "I picked it out myself."

That explained the hint of nerves. Shintarou made a noncommittal noise and slid the ribbon off the package. He handed it to Ryouta and ran his finger under the flap of wrapping paper, ignoring the little whine of Ryouta's impatience, and folded the paper back to reveal the plain white box beneath. Not a book after all, hm. He tucked the box under his elbow and folded the paper, which made Ryouta dance in place—"Come _on_ , you're not going to use it again!"—and was only fair given that he'd told Ryouta he didn't want any presents.

Then it was time to lift the lid of the box and peel back the tissue paper beneath to reveal—a book? A volume of some sort, bound in supple, fine-grained russet leather. Shintarou lifted it out of its nest of tissue paper, a part of him very relieved, and thumbed it open to see that the pages were blank paper, fine and smooth beneath his fingertips. 

"I know you said you didn't want anything." The words came tumbling out of Ryouta's mouth as Shintarou blinked over his gift, which was nothing like what he'd expected. "But I saw that when I was out shopping and I remembered that the notebook that you write things down in was starting to get full and I thought maybe you'd like this for when you need a new notebook." When Shintarou looked up, Ryouta was twisting the ribbons through his fingers and showing his anxiety all too clearly. "Do you like it?"

"It's perfect," Shintarou said, touching the soft leather carefully, shocked by how perfect it actually was. "It's... thank you. Thank you, Ryouta."

As effusions of gratitude went, Shintarou wasn't sure that it was enough—but Ryouta smiled anyway, bright as sunlight, and stopped fidgeting with the ribbons. "I hoped you would like it."

"I really do," Shintarou told him, and did not say that he liked all of the gifts Ryouta gave him, even the most ridiculous, impractical ones that Shintarou could not bring himself to give away or throw out. 

There was no point in encouraging him, after all.

* * *

**#skyfireflies**  
#Aomine  & Momoi anytime before Teikou - Holiday celebrations  
#Aomine is really bad at this 

Satsuki wraps her arms around her knees and watches Dai-chan scowl at the tub of goldfish. He's concentrating hard; the tip of his tongue is sticking out. He squints at the water and the goldfish swimming in glittering swirls beneath the surface. When he moves, it's almost faster than Satsuki can track—he plunges his net beneath the surface and scoops up three goldfish at once. 

Satsuki holds her breath as he lifts them out of the water. They begin to flop as soon as they hit the air, but Dai-chan moves fast, bringing them over to the waiting bowl.

He almost makes it when the thin paper shreds beneath the flopping fish and they drop back into the water.

Dai-chan says a word that Satsuki is pretty sure would get his mouth washed out with soap if their mothers were around. He glares at the fish some more, drops the ruined net aside. As he digs around for some more money to make another attempt, Satsuki says, "It's okay, Dai-chan. I don't really want a fish." It's a lie; she really does, but Dai-chan is really _bad_ at this.

"Shut up," he says, shoving a fistful of coins at the stall-keeper and snatching the fresh net from him. "I said I would get you a fish, so I'm gonna get you a fish."

It was worth a try, anyway. Satsuki sighs and settles in for the duration. 

(It takes several more attempts and most of the rest of Dai-chan's money, but in the end he catches two fish, and Satsuki has enough money to buy them both taiyaki, which they eat while the fish swim around and around in the bag hanging from her wrist, so it all works out.)

* * *

**#zumisumi**  
#Aomine and Momoi, cooking lessons  
#beware of feels 

"This is a terrible idea, I hope you realize that," Tetsu-kun warns her when Satsuki makes the resolution and enrolls herself and Dai-chan in a basic cooking skills course. 

As if she didn't already know that. Satsuki tosses her head at Tetsu-kun. "Yes, of course it is, but Dai-chan needs to develop some kind of life skills, doesn't he?"

And Tetsu-kun cannot dispute that, though it looks like he's biting his tongue to keep himself from saying what he really thinks of that. It doesn't matter; Satsuki can read him nearly as well as Dai-chan can, and his doubts regarding Dai-chan's capacity to learn how to cook anything more complicated than cup ramen are clear to see. 

That's not really the point, though she doesn't tell Tetsu-kun that, and they move on to other topics. 

When the day of the first class rolls around, Satsuki manages to collar Dai-chan (not _quite_ literally) and drag him away from his magazines by promising him that they're going out to get something to eat. Dai-chan isn't as bad as Kagamin when it comes to thinking with his stomach, but it's a near thing, and he goes along willingly enough. He looks confused when she leads him straight to the kitchen store and the long workbenches in the back, and even more confused when she hands him an apron. "What the hell?"

Satsuki pulls her own apron on and ties it in place. "We're going to learn how to cook, Dai-chan."

The thing is, Dai-chan's known her for years. She sees the thoughts as they occur to him-- _The hell you say_ quickly followed by _Wait, is she serious_ and then _Shit, I think she is._

When he realizes that, he settles on a fairly meek, "Why are we going to learn how to cook?"

There are two ways Satsuki can answer that. She elects the one that is easiest: "Because Tetsu-kun will never marry you if you don't have something more than basketball to bring to the table, of course."

Daiki immediately begins to sputter, as she had expected he would. "Satsuki!"

She laughs at him and his embarrassment, because it's funny that he thinks she hasn't noticed. "Put your apron on, Dai-chan. Just think of how impressed he'll be when you can make breakfast for him the morning after."

He flushes dark, but something about that thought seems to strike him, and he loops the apron over his head and ties it while she giggles, and that's pretty much that.

The other reason, the one Satsuki doesn't mention aloud, is this: they're in their third year of high school, and she's already submitting applications to universities, some of which are overseas. It's not exactly clear what Dai-chan is planning on doing with himself, but there are scouts who come and watch him play and look thoughtful as they mutter amongst themselves. He has options, not all of which overlap with the ones she's considering herself. If it should happen that their paths do diverge after graduation, Satsuki wants to be sure that he won't die of malnutrition in her absence, and that she has managed to get as much quality time with him as possible beforehand.

It's distinctly possible that Dai-chan has a vague inkling of that second reason himself, because he settles in for their first lesson (knife skills) without any further complaint and laughs at his first clumsy attempts to slice an onion properly, and does not try to avoid the follow-up lessons either.

* * *

**#chronolith**  
#Momoi and Kise, bitching sessions  
#this went a little darker than I expected 

It is their second year at Teikou, and it's becoming very clear that there is something magical happening in the basketball club. There's a name going around in the whispers; Satsuki hears it in the mouths of their opponents and in the mouths of the third-years: _kiseki no sedai_ , the generation of miracles. It's in the way Dai-chan has suddenly turned into a basketball monster, practically overnight, and the way the rest of them have followed him, honing their particular geniuses against one another and against their opponents. Akashi-kun deploys them on the court like a lord sending his warriors into battle, and they conquer everything in their paths. It gives Satsuki a sense of gathering momentum, as though they are running downhill, and she does not know whether they will end by taking flight or crashing. 

Sometimes, when they are caught up in the moment of triumph, she doesn't know whether she even cares.

She does know that she welcomes Kise-kun's arrival in the basketball club, because it is immediately clear that he has the potential to displace Haizaki. It's more of a relief than Satsuki quite knows how to deal with, because she does not _like_ Haizaki, and it has taken all of her considerable skills to keep from betraying this fact to anyone else.

(Haizaki has never touched her and rarely speaks to her, but that is because Satsuki has taken great pains to keep herself out of his way and close to Dai-chan, who may or may not realize what is going on but definitely manages to ward Haizaki off for her without even trying. But sometimes Haizaki _looks_ at her. Besides, she's heard all the stories and has been the one to warn some of her classmates away from the basketball club, which takes some doing to accomplish without giving away her intentions.)

She thinks that she's been wholly successful in keeping her opinions to herself until the afternoon that she has to do some pretty quick footwork and talking to avoid having to let Haizaki help her carry the box of water bottles out to the fountain for refills. Instead she ends up with Kise-kun instead, thank goodness, and the unpleasant, sticky feeling of Haizaki's smirk following after her. 

Satsuki does her best to banish that feeling by chattering at Kise-kun about his job as a model--it's been very fortuitous that he's come to the basketball club; she's managed to recruit a lot of his fans into her network of informants thanks to their desire to help him succeed--and how demanding it must be to balance his work and basketball and school. For his part, Kise-kun chatters back just like he does with all his fangirls, bright and silly and charmingly insincere. Yes, he says, the schedule is demanding, but really he enjoys the challenge, and he gets to meet such interesting people, and of course the exercise is really very good for his figure, etc. etc. etc., while they take turns refilling the team's water bottles.

Then, as Satsuki is screwing the lid onto the last of them, he drops his voice to say, "You don't like Haizaki very much, do you?" When Satsuki looks up at that, sharply enough that the muscles in her neck protest, Kise-kun isn't smiling anymore.

She takes a breath and says, lightly, "I suppose he's not my favorite member of the team."

Kise-kun nods. "I suppose I can't blame you for that." He looks back in the direction of the gymnasium. "He's not mine, either."

"Imagine that." Satsuki sets the last bottle into the box and nibbles on her lip. "I do try not to show that I have favorites, though."

Kise-kun is good, very good, because he shrugs and answers the question she has not asked. "You don't." The smile he slants her way is a very different thing from the broad, friendly smile he shows his fangirls. "I just know what it looks like when someone is faking it, is all."

Satsuki blinks, absorbing that and assimilating it into the rest of what she knows of him, and nods. "I suppose you would, at that."

He shrugs and gestures at the box of water bottles, and grunts when he picks up his end. Satsuki makes a mental note to tell Akashi-kun to consider upping his strength training regimen, and thinks no more of it until they're almost back to the gymnasium. Then he says, quiet, "He's not going to be around to bother you for very much longer." He looks serious. Determined.

Satsuki smiles at him and reaches for the door. "Thank you, Ki-chan," she says as she wrestles it open, and takes satisfaction from the surprised look that nets her as they carry the water bottles inside.

* * *

**#andreaphobia**  
#any of the Miragen, choosing their high school  
#Midorin is my favorite basketball boy 

Once Akashi tells them that they must go to different high schools, Shintarou applies himself to the task of researching and scouting the different possibilities as systematically as possible. He prefers not to look outside the Tokyo area, which narrows his search down, but even so, there are a great many choices to sift through. He doesn't know how the rest of the team approaches their decisions, but he sits down with pamphlets and websites and an astrological index and begins comparing amenities and scholastic records and the schools' philosophies against one another. He compiles careful lists of their basketball teams' statistical records (it goes without saying that he is not considering any school without a basketball team) and studies the patterns they make, seeking insight into their fortunes, and he works tirelessly to discern how those fortunes will mesh with his own. 

In the end, he narrows it down to a couple of possibilities and has to think long and hard about which to pursue. The three kings of Tokyo all have excellent reputations and excellent fortunes that seem compatible with his own. Their scholastic programs are roughly equal, as are their amenities. 

It's not an easy decision to make, but he chooses Shuutoku, not because it's necessarily any better than Seihou or Senshinkan, but because he likes the philosophy of their club the best. Shuutoku emphasizes hard work and training and diligence over all, and that, Shintarou thinks, is a philosophy he can embrace.

In the end, he has no regrets about his choice at all.

* * *

**#shunnaoaddict**  
#Imayoshi/Susa, study session  
#not really my pairing but I did my best 

Classes have been over for a while now, and it is definitely the time for all good third years to be buried in their notes and books in preparation for the exams that are looming on the horizon.

Susa would like to be doing that, really he would, but there's a definite problem getting in the way of being able to concentrate on his literature notes, and his name is Imayoshi Shouichi. 

_Clickety-clickety-clickety_ \--that's the sound it makes every time Imayoshi depresses the button on the end of his pen. _Tap-tap-tappety-tap_ goes the drumbeat of his fingers against the table, which is in turn juddering with the way Imayoshi is drumming his heel against the floor. Every once in a while, Imayoshi punctuates the whole performance with a sigh so deep and heavy that it must be coming all the way up from his toes.

No one else is sitting at their table; hell, no one else is even sitting in this corner of the library. Susa can't blame them in the slightest. No one in the world could possibly study under these circumstances.

He reaches across the table and pins Imayoshi's hand and that stupid pen flat against the table and waits until Imayoshi is giving him a startled look to say, enunciating each syllable, "Stop. That."

The table stops rattling and Imayoshi stops drumming his fingers, which is a blessed relief. Imayoshi himself looks confused more than anything else; it's a rare enough occurrence that Susa takes a moment to savor it. "Stop what?"

It figures. "Fidgeting," Susa says, and watches Imayoshi gather himself for a denial. "If you don't knock it off, I am going to throw you out of this library myself."

That's when it seems to sink in for Imayoshi that they're got an entire table in this sunny corner all to themselves, which is unusual given that every third year not otherwise preoccupied with club activities is embroiled in exam prep these days and that this is prime library real estate. Imayoshi never permits himself to look _abashed_ , but he does clear his throat. "Ah," he says. "I see."

Susa squints at him, decides that he probably does see, and nods. "Good." He gives it a moment's more consideration, and figures they might as well address the root cause of all this while they're at it. "They're going to be fine. Wakamatsu's got a good head on his shoulders. Stop worrying."

Imayoshi's just about as good as a cat is at passing off embarrassment in an air of _I_ meant _to do that_ , so he only sniffs at that. "Of course they will. I trained them all, didn't I?"

"Of course you did," Susa says, not bothering to keep the dryness out of his tone. "So obviously there's nothing to be concerned about."

It's not really that easy, of course; the first round of the Winter Cup is barely behind them and Susa feels the absence of basketball and club like a missing tooth. Imayoshi has poured his heart and soul into the club for the past year--how much more keenly must he feel it now that he's retired from the club and given over that duty to Wakamatsu?

Nevertheless he smiles, careless. "Not a thing," he agrees, and then glances down, pointed. "I don't reckon I might be allowed to have my hand back now?"

"I suppose," Susa says, but permits himself a moment to squeeze Imayoshi's hand before he releases it.

"Thank you," Imayoshi says, airy, but that's all right. Susa knows what he means and smiles as he returns his attention to his literature notes.

* * *


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AoKuroKaga, DP

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little Porn Battle fill.

**#Kuroko/Aomine/Kagami**  
#DP  
#filthy smut ahead 

Daiki straddles Tetsu, knees tucked against his chest, and presses his forehead against Tetsu's shoulder as he pants. "I can't," he says; the words rasp out of him. "I _can't_ , it's too much, I can't do it." 

Taiga presses his fingers deeper, two of them now sliding into Daiki, stroking against Tetsu's dick. Daiki's muscles ache with the stretch, sharpness that twists up his spine; he's already full, too full, this is never going to work—

Tetsu strokes his fingers against his shoulder, slow and soothing, trails them down Daiki's spine, slick with sweat, down to where Daiki is stretched open around his dick and Taiga's fingers. Daiki groans against his shoulder, shuddering as Tetsu strokes his fingers there, circling them around Taiga's fingers and his own cock. His touch is light, but every nerve Daiki has is hypersensitive right now. He shudders and gasps as Tetsu rocks his hips up, just a bit, and sensation rolls through him. 

"There we go," Taiga says behind him as he sinks his fingers all the way home; his voice is relaxed. Sure. "I knew you could do it." 

Daiki would answer him, tell him exactly what he thinks of _that_ , but he can't catch enough breath to groan, not when the fullness of it is killing him. Tetsu shifts under him, again, humming low in his throat as he thrusts up into Daiki, still shallow. Daiki squeezes his eyes shut, throat dry with panting, and shudders again as Taiga moves his fingers, in and out, absolutely relentless. The feel of it crackles through him, raw and rough, somewhere on the far edge of sensation.

Tetsu circles his fingers against Daiki's entrance, slow and light; he uses the barest edge of his nails against Daiki's skin. It makes him cry out, something about the delicate sharpness there singing through him and undoing him. He sags against Tetsu, shuddering.

He can hear the smile in Tetsu's voice when he says, "I think he's ready now."

Daiki presses his face into the curve of Tetsu's throat and shudders again as Taiga slides the finger out of him. The sudden easing of the fullness inside him feels like a loss, at least until Taiga shifts closer, a hot weight against his back, and Daiki feels the head of him sliding against him, blunt and thick. 

Tetsu closes a hand on his nape, holding him for it when Taiga first begins to push in. "Shh," he says as Daiki shakes against him; his voice is husky, too, strained at the edges. "Shhh, you can do this."

Daiki doesn't know whether he _can_ , not when it's so much, both of them inside him, Taiga fitting himself against his back, mouthing the line of his shoulder, licking the slick of sweat from it and all but purring as he sinks home. "Fuck," he says against Daiki's shoulder, " _fuck_ , it's so tight—" He leans against Daiki's back, breathing hard, and for a moment no one moves. Daiki rests against Tetsu's shoulder, barely able to track anything but the aching fullness of having their cocks inside him, both at once, too much to bear. Then Taiga shifts, rocking a little deeper, and Tetsu moans, full-throated and hungry, and they're _moving_ , fucking him, shallow little rolls of their hips that send raw sensation rocketing through Daiki, so intense that he can't track whether it's pleasure or pain, can only let them hold him as they move against him, Tetsu's hands on his back, Taiga's hands on his chest, on his cock, palming it, another layer of sensation, the pebble on the mountainside that triggers the avalanche, the cascade of pleasure as he comes. The force of it whites out his vision, blanks every thought in his head as he arches between them, his body trying to wring down around them and held ruthlessly open. Daiki thinks he may scream with it; certainly he blacks out, because when he comes back to himself, both Tetsu and Taiga are still again, breathing hard. Taiga leans against him, panting against his shoulder, and Tetsu is smoothing his hands over every bit of them that he can reach. 

"Oh my god," Daiki croaks, when he is able to speak. "Oh my fucking _god_." 

"I told you it was a good idea," Tetsu murmurs, full of satisfaction. It's not like Daiki can argue the point anymore, so he closes his eyes and rests between them, letting them hold him.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> #chronolith  
> #Kagami is trying to figure out what Momoi is thinking  
> #basically Alex is awesome and no one will ever be able to convince me otherwise

"Holy shit," Taiga said, one cheek pressed flat against the table. "Alex, you've got to help me."

The connection wasn't too bad for a change, so Alex's laughter came across as clearly as if she'd been sitting right there, half-dressed and mocking his misery. "Just what kind of a mess have you gotten yourself into this time, Tiger?"

Taiga closed his eyes, knowing full well exactly how much this was going to cost him, and braced himself for it. "Alex, you've got to help me," he said again, for emphasis. "Tell me why girls are so fucking crazy."

As he had fully expected it would, this sent her off into whoops of laughter so loud that he had to pull the phone away from his ear for the duration. It took a while. "Could it be that you've finally realized that there's more to life than the basketball court?" she demanded once she'd caught her breath.

"Jesus, Alex, I'm _seventeen_. I've known _that_ for years." He'd have preferred not to ever bring the matter up with Alex—oh, God, he'd been hanging around Izuki for way too long, he couldn't believe that he'd thought that, or worse, _noticed_ it—but desperate times called for desperate measures.

"My mistake." Alex's voice held a distinctly amused tone; he could all but see the grin that went with it. Fuck, he missed having her around. "I guess this means that you're trying to figure out why one specific girl is crazy?"

As usual, she had put her finger right on the crucial point. Taiga sat up and groaned into the phone. "Alex, she's _crazy_. She's got to be. I can't figure out what's going on in her head."

Alex's chuckle rolled down the line, comforting as a warm blanket. "Well, tell me all about it and let me see if there's anything I can do to help you. Who is she? What is she doing that's so confusing?"

Thank God, she was going to help. Okay. "You remember Aomine, right?" Alex made an affirmative sound; yeah, he hadn't thought she would have forgotten her encounter with Aomine from just after the Winter Cup. Aomine had... fixated. "You remember his friend Momoi?"

The silence from the other end of the line lasted much longer than Taiga felt was a good sign. When Alex spoke, she sounded like she was being careful. "I do. I also seem to recall that she and your friend Kuroko were an item as well."

Shit, that was her _I think you're about to make a really dumb decision but I won't say anything because this will be a valuable learning experience_ voice. He hated that voice. "Yeah, well, that's part of the crazy, okay?"

"I'm listening," Alex said. Careful. Neutral.

"Right." Taiga sank his fingers into his hair, setting his thoughts in order. "Right, okay. She _does_ go around talking about how much she just _loves_ Kuroko and stuff, but Kuroko swears that they've never actually dated or anything like that." Getting him to say so in plain terms had been a pain in the ass, since Kuroko was pathologically subtle sometimes. "If I'm understanding it right, the idea is that they're... teasing people, I guess." He could believe it of Kuroko, that was for sure, because Kuroko was made of evil.

"Uh-huh." That sounded somewhat less disapproving, anyway.

"So, yeah." Taiga pushed himself to his feet and began pacing, trying to figure out how to go on. "So I _think_ that's not a thing. But there's the Aomine factor, and I have _no idea_ what's going on there. Half the time she acts like his mom or his secretary or something, and half the time, I dunno, it's like she wants to strangle him."

"Tiger, sometimes it is so painfully obvious that you are an only child."

That sounded sort of encouraging. "You think that's what it is?" He perked up a little bit, because that would really take a lot off his mind.

"I think so, yes." Alex sounded amused. "From what I saw of them, and the stories you tell me, they sound like siblings." She hummed. "Well, codependent siblings."

"You said it first, not me." Codependent siblings. Well, he could deal with that. Probably. Though that did mean it was a damned good thing that he'd never actually punched Aomine any of the times he'd been tempted to do so.

"So far I'm not hearing any real problems here," Alex pointed out. "How much is this phone call costing you again?"

"Never mind that, you're not the one paying for it." Nevertheless, he plunged right into it. "What I can't figure out is what the heck she's thinking. Sometimes I think that she's flirting with me—" He was pretty sure it was flirting, though asking him coy questions about how he trained and the trajectory of his jumping power and sending him information about non-Touou teams didn't look anything like the shenanigans she and Kuroko got up to together. "But I can't really tell, because none of the girls here act like what I'm used to." They never _said_ anything, and everything seemed to happen on an angle compared to what he was used to. "I can't even tell whether she looks at me any differently than she does anyone else. And she made chocolates for _everybody_ , so that's no good."

"She made—oh, I see." She was probably remembering the time that Tatsuya had brought her chocolates for White Day. Tatsuya always had been better plugged in to those kinds of things. Maybe he would have been the better person to call, but all that was still complicated and weird. Alex was definitely the easier route, even with the teasing. "So tell me, Tiger—you like this girl? You think she's something special?"

"Ye-es?" Taiga said, cautiously.

"Mmhm. Have you told her so? Or asked her how she feels about you?"

"Um." Taiga stopped pacing and stood at the window, grimacing out at the street. "I—kind of wanted to figure that out _before_ I said anything." God knew he tended to miss a lot of the expected social cues around here. Being a returnee _sucked_ sometimes. He really didn't want to fuck this one up.

"That's kind of what I thought you were going to say." Alex sighed. "Okay, Tiger, listen up. We've reached the valuable life lesson portion of our conversation. Pay attention to what I'm about to tell you and profit from my years of experience." She cleared her throat. "The only reliable way to know for sure how someone feels about you is to ask them directly and then take them at their word. How they act might give you some clues, sure, but in the end you're still going to have to talk about it if you actually want it to get anywhere."

Damn. He'd been afraid that that was what she was going to tell him. "Are you sure I can't tell from how she acts? Do you think it sounds like she might like me?"

"I met her once a year ago, Tiger. Chrissakes, how the hell should _I_ know?" Alex sounded amused. "Just tell her that you like her and ask her out already. The worst that can happen is that she turns you down."

Taiga winced. "That's an awful lot of worst, Alex."

"Well, that's the risk, kiddo. Welcome to the wonderful world of romance. Sometimes it sucks." She paused. "And then, if you're lucky, sometimes it _really_ sucks."

What—oh _God_. Taiga howled in anguish as her implication sank in. "Alex!"

She cackled. "I'm just saying."

"I am going to be scarred for _life_ ," he moaned.

She only laughed at his pain, which was fairly typical. "Wimp," she told him. "Anyway, man up and ask her out. If she turns you down, I'll buy a pint of Häagen-Dazs and eat it the next time we chat."

Taiga tried to figure out the logic of that and failed. "How would _you_ eating ice cream make me feel any better about getting turned down?" 

"It won't, but I'll enjoy it," she said.

"You are the worst person I know, and I know Aomine Daiki," Taiga told her.

Alex only chuckled at that. "Seriously, though. Just talk to her. You'll feel better once you've got an answer. And who knows? Maybe you'll get a girlfriend out of it!"

She had a point there, much as he hated to admit it. "...thanks, Alex."

"No problem, kiddo." She paused, and then turned very serious. "I just want you to remember one thing."

Taiga straightened his shoulders, coming to attention. "What's that?"

Very solemnly, she said, "If you love her, wear a cover."

If he—oh holy _shit_. "Alex!" He felt his face go hot as she whooped with laughter. "I'm hanging up now!"

She was still laughing when he hit the end call button. God. Women were _all_ crazy.

Unfortunately, the fact that Alex was both crazy and downright evil didn't mean that she was also _wrong_ , though he kind of hated to admit it. If she said the only way to deal with it was to actually say something... then she was probably right.

Taiga put his phone down and went to splash cool water on his face while he tried to erase the last part of Alex's advice from his brain. Then he took a deep breath and scrolled through his list of contacts, and selected Momoi's name. She answered promptly, sounding surprised to hear from him. "Kagamin? What can I do for you?"

Taiga closed his eyes and cleared his throat, crossing his fingers for luck. "There's something I wanted to ask you..."


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> #carabarks  
> #MidoKise, festival  
> #somehow the whole gang snuck their way into this one

For an outing that's supposed to be a touching, heartfelt reunion, they end up going their separate ways pretty quickly. Murasakibara, predictably enough, immediately veers off to investigate the food stalls. Midorima has little doubt that the next time they see him, he will be loaded down with all the snacks he can carry, more than would seem logical even accounting for the amount of energy it must take to power Murasakibara's massive frame.

It's Akashi they lose next, and that's not really a surprise either. The real surprise is more that he's even here at all, given how tenuously he was tethered to them in the first place. When he realizes that there's a play being staged, he drifts away from them to join the audience. Midorima thinks that he might join him there later, after he's had a chance to make a sweep through the vendor stalls for potential lucky items and to write out a wish. A play would certainly be more restful than being around Aomine, who persists in arguing with Kagami at the slightest provocation. Kagami—who by rights oughtn't even be here for this reunion but has nevertheless insinuated himself into their midst effortlessly, as though he's always been one of them—is perfectly willing to argue right back. Kuroko walks between them. Ostensibly this is to allow him to hold the peace between them, but it doesn't seem to be doing much good.

Midorima privately suspects him of enjoying the spectacle. It's certainly true that some of the things he says do more to stir the two of them up than it does to settle them down. Momoi isn't much help either. She flits from Aomine's arm to Kuroko's and even hangs off Kagami once or twice, laughing at all three of them indiscriminately. It's practically a relief when she decides that she wants someone to win her a fish, _just like old times, Dai-chan_ , and this sparks another flare of competition. This time it's because Aomine affects to be bored with the idea and Kagami gallantly steps up to offer his fish-winning services. Aomine, not unsurprisingly, takes exception to this. Kuroko trails along after them as they make for the games, looking perfectly satisfied with this state of affairs as Aomine loudly proclaims that no one is going to win Momoi any damn fish but him.

"If Momocchi isn't careful, she's going to end up with a whole tank of fish," Kise remarks after their din diminishes with the distance.

"If she doesn't want a tank of fish, she should consider her audience more carefully before she speaks," Midorima replies.

Kise laughs. "You're so cold, Midorimacchi!" He stretches his arms over his head and catches the elbow of one with the opposite hand; the sleeves of his yukata slide down to bare his forearms. "Well, now what should we do?" He seems to take it as a given that Midorima both wants and expects his company for the evening.

Midorima begins to ask him what he means by saying _we_ , only to remember at the last moment that Kise himself has been the motivating force behind this festival reunion, which is turning out to be not much of a reunion at all. He pushes his glasses back into place. "I haven't made my wish yet."

Kise flashes one of his incandescent smiles, the one that occasionally catches Midorima by surprise when he's leafing through magazines. "Let's start there."

As Kise seizes his hand and drags him in the direction of the waiting bamboo branches, Midorima can almost hear Takao's approving comment: _Good job, Shin-chan! We'll make you into a real boy yet!_

After he writes out his wish—to do with the tournaments and Shuutoku's advancement, because a little extra luck never hurts, especially given the quality of the competition—and hangs it up, he waits for Kise to finish struggling over the wording of his own wish. Midorima keeps his eyes averted from the thin strip of paper that Kise eventually fastens to a branch and straightens his sleeves instead. "Now what?"

"Now we explore," Kise proclaims. He hooks an arm in Midorima's and drags him out into the crowd, diving into the festival with abandon. He's perfectly at home in large groups and goes from stall to stall in apparent willingness to be pleased by whatever he finds. He's always had a talent for sweeping people along in his enthusiasm, when he chooses to exercise it. Midorima has always found that aspect of him puzzling, even after as many chances as he's had to see Kise deploy it with his fans. This time seems a little different, somehow—Kise's pleasure isn't as exaggerated as it normally is when he's performing. Midorima supposes that this means that Kise has either improved the quality of his acting or is genuinely enjoying himself. He chooses to believe it is the latter.

He's also enjoying himself, which is only appropriate given that it _is_ a festival. He acquires another charm for good fortune, plus a small maneki-neko that will likely come in handy as a future lucky item. Kise buys a tray of takoyaki for them to share; Midorima returns the favor with a tray of dango. They run into Murasakibara, who has enrolled himself in an eating competition and looks as content with his lot as he ever is. Kise steers them over to the game booths after that. Momoi doesn't have any fish at all when they stop by that booth, but Aomine has forgotten to act like he's not enjoying himself as he strives earnestly to catch one of the goldfish swimming around in their tank without tearing the paper net in the process. It's probably just as well that Kagami is as bad at it as he is. Certainly the crowd of small children watching them seem to be highly entertained by their efforts, and Kuroko watches the two of them with a small, fond smile.

Kise elects to spend his efforts at a dart booth offering prizes for anyone who can pop enough balloons in an allotted amount of time. He charms the attendant into demonstrating just how easy it is to pop the balloons, and promptly obliterates several balloons himself. He selects a large, obnoxiously pink rabbit as his prize and immediately bestows it upon Midorima, ignoring all Midorima's protests and efforts to escape this gift. "It can be a lucky item!" he argues, so earnestly that Midorima distrusts him on principle. "You never know."

So Midorima finds himself carrying it through the festival as the sky begins to darken and the stars begin to emerge. Fortunately, he's already well inured to the potential awkwardness of such a situation and ignores those uncouth individuals who can't seem to stop themselves from staring.

Presently Kise says, "We should go find a place to watch the fireworks." He's not wrong: the stalls have long since lit their lanterns against the deepening violet of the sky, and the fireworks will begin as soon as it is full dark.

Midorima acquiesces to this plan and they begin to meander in the general direction of the bluffs on the far edge of the festival, which should make for excellent viewing when the fireworks. There should also be plenty of space for the rest of their party, if they can tear themselves away from their various amusements.

"Yeah, I guess so," Kise agrees when Midorima points this out, but it comes out almost absently, as though he isn't thinking of the rest of them at all. He's lapsed into these moments of abstraction off and on all evening, so Midorima sees no reason to think anything of it. Kise's always been the one of them most prone to mercurial changes of mood, generally in response to his environment and his audiences. Neither does Midorima think much of it when Kise turns to him and says, "This has been fun, hasn't it?"

"It hasn't been horrible," Midorima allows.

It makes Kise laugh, taking that precisely as Midorima means it. He smiles, a quiet curve of his lips that has very little in common with the flashy grin he reserves for public purposes. "Good," he says. His fingers brush against Midorima's, tangling with them briefly. "I'm glad you came."

Midorima nearly stumbles as several things he had construed one way present themselves in a different light, demanding a new, unexpected interpretation, one that makes a startling amount of sense. He clears his throat, not quite looking at Kise. "Yes," he says. "So am I."

And this time, when his fingers encounter Kise's, Midorima does not let go.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **#chronolith**   
> **#Kagami/Momoi, smut**   
> **#in which Kagami has hidden depths**

So, Satsuki thought, gazing at Kagamin's bedroom ceiling and trying to catch her breath, _this_ wasn't at all what she'd thought to expect after she'd finally coaxed Kagamin into offering to make her dinner.

Kagamin rubbed his thumb along the skin of her hip, a place that Satsuki had never thought of as being particularly sensitive or erogenous, but somehow the drag of his thumb back and forth made a thrill of response dance up her spine. Or perhaps that was thanks to the way he was cradling her hips in his palms, holding them gently as he knelt between her knees and mouthed his way up the inside of her thigh. His lips were so soft against her skin, contrast to the faint rasp of the first traces of stubble on his chin, that it made Satsuki shudder and gasp. She had already closed a hand on his pillow and was gripping it for dear life, trying to ground herself against the hot ache of anticipation as he moved higher up her thigh, even closer to where she was already wetter than she'd ever been. "Kagamin," she said, hoarse, wondering how he could have been so _shy_ about asking her out and in asking her whether she'd let him make her dinner, and so brazen about _this_.

He paused, so close that she could feel the whisper of his breath against her, soft and warm. That just made her gasp, her hips moving restlessly against his hands as arousal throbbed and pooled between her legs. "Yeah?"

Satsuki whimpered when she realized that he was waiting for her go-ahead. " _Yes_ ," she breathed, and then the pattern of her thoughts flew apart as he took her at her word. He bent his head to lick his way between the folds of her body, one long, soft stroke to open her up and steal the breath from her throat. Satsuki whimpered again, barely aware of doing it, and twisted her fingers in his pillow and the sheets as he licked at her slowly, long strokes that teased over her entrance and dragged over her clit and short, light brushes that made stars burst like fireworks behind her eyelids as she dug her heels into his shoulders and shook in his hands. When he circled his tongue around her clit, the slow deliberate brush of it tore a cry out of her throat with the way pleasure twisted through her in response. He made a satisfied sound then and kept going, tonguing her slowly until it broke her apart and she came for the first time, straining up against his mouth as the pulses of her orgasm rocked her.

Her second orgasm came fast on the heels of the first, on another of those long, slow sweeps of his tongue, when he licked his way into her, teasing the tip of his tongue into her body. Satsuki cried out as he stroked his tongue against sensitive skin, first soft and then firm, and came undone again, tossing her head against the pillow as the shudders of pleasure rolled through her, as relentless as the tide sweeping the strand and washing away everything but the present moment.

She had barely begun to subside from that, breathing hard and trembling, when she became aware of Kagamin's cheek resting against her thigh. He was watching her, smiling, and his eyes were soft. Satsuki was not accustomed to blushing without cause, but the way he was watching her made the heat rise in her cheeks. She dragged an unsteady breath into her lungs. "I thought you were _shy_."

Kagamin considered this and chuckled. "No, I just like to be sure before I commit myself to something important."

The implications of that made Satsuki dizzy, and so did the way Kagamin turned his face to kiss the inside of her thigh. "Come here," she ordered him, breathless, and Kagamin wasn't the least bit shy about obeying her.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **#ai-ai-gasa**   
> **#AoKuro, "Dai-chan said Kagamin was Tetsu-kun's true light and Tetsu-kun was Kagamin's fated shadow."**   
> **#in which Kise and Momoi put their heads together #and hijinks ensue**

It began like this.

They had exchanged compliments and news of their respective teams, shared several interesting tidbits of gossip about their mutual acquaintances, and supplied themselves with a sufficient amount of sugar-laden confectionary and the tea with which to wash it down. There was no better time to launch into his purpose than the present, Ryouta decided. "Momoicchi, can I ask you something?"

Momoi turned a limpid smile upon him. "You can ask me anything you want, Ki-chan, you know that."

"But will you answer?" he countered. 

Her smile deepened enough to show her dimples. "I think that depends on the question, just like it always does."

Ryouta heaved a sigh and gave her the most mournful look he could muster up. "You're a hard woman, Momoicchi." This only gave her cause to preen herself a bit and left her otherwise unmoved, so he proceeded. "Anyway. Tell me. What in the world is going on between Aominecchi and Kurokocchi?"

Momoi uttered an aggravated little huff and slumped in her chair. "Nothing," she said, disgusted. "Absolutely _nothing_."

He might have been tempted to ask her whether she was sure, but it was Momoi, the world's foremost expert on Aomineology. Also, he had eyes of his own. Ryouta also slumped, mirroring her posture. "Really nothing?" he asked, plaintive. "Even now?" The Winter Cup was well behind all of them, and even _Akashi_ was beginning to put its hard lessons into practice. "What is he waiting for?"

Momoi drew her cup closer but simply traced a fingertip around and around its rim instead of drinking. "Dai-chan said that Kagamin was Tetsu-kun's true light and that Tetsu-kun was Kagamin's fated shadow."

It took him a couple of minutes to decipher this, translating it out of Aominese and into ordinary terms. "What, _really_?" he asked when he'd accomplished this. Then he shook his head, exasperated. "Wait, no, what am I even asking for, of _course_ he said that. He's such an idiot sometimes."

"It's Dai-chan." Momoi shrugged, a woman long since accustomed to Aomine's many and varied quirks. "He's never been any good at doing things in moderation." And thus his descent into rampant assholishness after things at Teikou had begun to go off the rails, and then what sounded like a current bout of self-flagellation, or so her weary tones had suggested. She lifted her teacup and sipped. "Why do you ask?"

Ryouta heaved a sigh. "Have you tried playing basketball with them lately?" he asked sadly. "It's _terrible_ , Momoicchi! You could cut the sexual tension with a knife! It was funny at first, but they just keep staring at each other when they think no one is looking, and they barely pay attention to the game." Even Kagami was beginning to pick up on this, if the eyeroll he'd shot Ryouta's way the last time they'd all met up for a game was any indication.

Momoi stared at him and then burst into giggles. "I should have known," she said eventually. "It's affecting their game, and that's why you care."

"I just hate to see my friends unhappy," Ryouta said, lofty, though it was clear that she wasn't buying his noble pose. "Okay, fine, it's affecting their game and therefore we need to do something about that. I don't suppose you would care to help me?"

Momoi had another sip of tea and regarded him over her cup. "Just what did you have in mind?"

Ryouta opened his mouth and then paused. He rubbed the back of his neck. "I hadn't actually gotten that far," he admitted. "Do you have any ideas?"

Momoi sighed and set her cup down. "This is probably going to end in tears," she said. "But yes, I do have an idea or two."

Ryouta beamed at her. "Great! Where to we start?"

And that was how Operation: Get Aomine To Confess His Undying Love To Kuroko began. As Momoi had predicted, it _did_ end in tears—tears of laughter over the thing with the mime, the cake, and Kuroko's earnest attempt to throttle Ryouta when it came out that this had been his contribution to the cause. It also succeeded in its stated objective and Kuroko subsequently climbing Aomine like a tree, so all was well that ended well.

("Okay," Ryouta said to Momoi some time later. "Now how do we get them to stop eyefucking each other on the court and just play basketball?" But that is a story for another day.)


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **#randommemorylog**   
> **#Aomine/Kuroko/Kagami, the first time Kuroko and Kagami doubleteam Aomine**   
> **#you cannot convince me that Kuroko DOESN'T have a voyeuristic streak**

So the thing is, Tetsu's actually kind of a voyeur, though he'll never admit to it out loud. Doesn't make it not true, and the fact is that Tetsu likes to watch. This is why he's currently leaning against the headboard, his knees spread to make room for Daiki to lie between his thighs, and why there are a stack of pillows under Daiki's hips, raising his ass into the air. Tetsu wants to see it every time Taiga sinks his fingers into Daiki, three of them right to the knuckles, before he slides them back out, leaving Daiki feeling aching and empty before he plunges them back in again.

Daiki can't see any of this for himself, of course, because Tetsu's hand weighs heavy against the back of his head, and he's busy running his mouth up and down Tetsu's cock. It must be a good show, though, because Tetsu is breathing fast and his cock is slick and wet from more than just Daiki's mouth moving over it. Daiki's okay with this, much more okay than he'd thought he'd be, and he groans as another deep thrust and twist of Kagami's fingers send a thick, heavy flare of heat up his spine. He'd shift against the pillows to get some relief or friction for his cock, which throbs and aches for more, but Kagami is holding him too still for that. All he can do is take it.

He's surprisingly okay with this, too.

That doesn't keep him from groaning, grateful, when Tetsu says, "I think he's ready now."

Taiga sounds ready too, because he sighs, "Thank God," as he curls his fingers one last time before dragging them out of Daiki.

Tetsu shakes with near-silent laughter as Daiki groans around him, feeling open and too empty, but Taiga is too nice a guy to keep him waiting for long. He has hardly any time to go wanting before Kagami closes strong hands on his hips, lifting him with the kind of ease that puts a twist of something hot in the pit of Daiki's stomach. Kagami pushes in on one hard stroke, burying himself inside Daiki, and his groan just about echoes off their bedroom walls. Daiki can't groan—he can't do anything in the first explosion of sensation, not when it feels so good to be stretched open around the thickness of Taiga's cock. The feeling draws out and out some more, and just when he's beginning to come to grips with it, Taiga begins to move.

Daiki loses his ability to think in that moment, reverting to pure instinct. There's nothing left of him but the way pleasure sings up his spine as Taiga ruts against him, driving in hard and deep, and the way it feels when Tetsu cradles his face between his palms and holds him for it as he rolls his hips up, fucking Daiki's mouth. Daiki groans around him and the pleasurable ache of his jaws, groans with the way his lips feel tender and swollen as Tetsu's cock moves between them and slides over his tongue, groans for the way Taiga holds his hips steady for each bed-shaking thrust, pounding into him until Daiki can't endure any more of the pleasure curling through him and comes. Heat explodes through him, searing him down to the bone with how much it is, until there's nothing left of Daiki to know anything with.

He comes back to himself slowly, rising from his daze with the taste of Tetsu still on his tongue and the ghost of pleasure still throbbing in every muscle he has. Tetsu is curled up to the left of him, Taiga to the right. "...okay," Daiki says once he can manage to string coherent syllables together. "Okay, you were right, that was pretty great."

"I told you so," Taiga says, justifiably smug, and Tetsu just laughs at them both.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **#gestahlt**   
> **#Aomine/fem!Kagami/Kise, double penetration**   
> **#I should write more fem!Kagami #her narrative voice is very distinctive**

"Jesus Christ," Taiga says, her breath rasping in her throat. "Jesus Christ, how do I let you morons talk me into doing these things?" She digs her fingers into Daiki's shoulders when he laughs, because the rumble of it resonates through her, all up and down her body where she's draped against him, and sparks of pleasure dance after it as that grinds her clit against the base of his cock. Behind her, Ryouta uses that as an excuse to slide a second finger into her, stroking it in alongside Daiki's cock. Taiga shudders against the ache of her muscles stretching around his fingers, groaning with it, and she's crazy. She's _got_ to be crazy to go along with this, because it's not like _either_ of them is a small guy. Jesus.

Daiki grins at her, lazy and hot. "If it's too much for you, baby, just say so," he drawls, even though he doesn't make that first move to take his hands off her tits or even stop stroking them. Sure, it _sounds_ all solicitous and shit, like he just wants to be sure she's not being pushed past her limits or comfort zone, but come on, this is Aomine fucking Daiki. Taiga knows a challenge when she hears it, and that right there is reason number one that she's spread across his lap, thigh muscles straining with the stretch of it, and letting Ryouta slide his fingers in and out of her. 

"Fuck you," Taiga gasps as Ryouta sinks his fingers all the way into her. "I'll show _you_ too much, asshole."

Reason number two presses his mouth to her shoulder, dropping soft kisses along it that are wet with the brush of his tongue. "Don't worry," Ryouta murmurs when he reaches the spot just under her ear, the one he _knows_ makes her bones turn to water when he mouths it just—like—he's—doing—now— _fuck_. "Gonna make it so good for you, you won't regret it." That's a promise Taiga knows she can take to the bank, because for one thing, Ryouta is just about as good as he thinks he is. For another, he's already spent half an hour by the clock with his face buried between her thighs, putting that pretty mouth of his to good use, and Taiga wouldn't dream of regretting _that._

What? She's only human, and has never pretended to be above taking bribes when the right one comes her way.

Taiga arches between them as Ryouta mouths her throat and reaches a hand back to him, sinking it into his hair. "Promises, promises," she rasps, and then he slips that third finger into her. "Fuck... _fuck_..."

Daiki takes advantage of the way she tips her head back to drag his tongue up her throat, because he's a born opportunist, and his voice has dropped to a purr when he says, "Fucksake, Ryouta, you gonna take all night here or what?"

Ryouta presses another kiss to Taiga's shoulder; with her nerves as sensitized as they are right now, Taiga can _feel_ the way his lips quirk. "Perfection takes time," he says, even as he's sliding his fingers out of Taiga and pressing up closer as she moans at the sudden lack of that stretching pressure. "Now," he says, husky against her ear, and Taiga moves when he sets his hands against her hips and coaxes her up. Daiki groans with her as she shifts her weight and he moves inside her, and grunts when Ryouta reaches under them, fitting himself closer to them both. A moment later Taiga recognizes why when she feels Ryouta's cock nudging against her. Her breath stutters in her throat at the pressure of it pushing against her—it really _is_ going to be too much, she's not going to be able to take them both—and then the head of him slips inside her. 

Taiga whimpers with the hard stretch, achingly full, and her whimper stretches into a whine as Ryouta gently coaxes her to settle again, sliding down around them both. Everything narrows down to how full she is, how big they feel inside her, hovering on the edge of what Taiga can stand. 

Then Daiki licks the ball of his thumb and reaches down, stroking it over her clit, and that's it, she's gone, screaming as she comes and her body seizes tight around them, trying to wring tight despite the way they're holding her open. She's never come so hard in her life, and that's _before_ Ryouta and Daiki start moving inside her.

Taiga surrenders any pretence of being in control of this and lets them get on with it while she hangs onto them and tries not to die from coming her brains out. Here's the thing: Daiki may be the avatar of arrogance personified, but he's also some kind of unholy sex god. On top of that, Ryouta's ability to mimic feats of physical prowess does not stop at the edges of the basketball court. She comes again while they're still figuring out how to move together and how much she can take, shuddering through it as they rock shallow little thrusts into her. Then they figure it out and Ryouta, who's been chasing Daiki for so long that it's like second nature for him to mirror everything Daiki does, syncs himself up to the way Daiki is moving. 

Everything after that is one long blur as far as Taiga's concerned, and she gives up trying to keep track of whose hands are touching her where, fondling her breasts or sliding wet and messy over her clit to coax her through another wracking shudder of pleasure. She couldn't say whose lips are on her throat at any given moment, or even which one of them is groaning in her ear, mingling praise and profanity and prayers as the two of them rock up into her and one orgasm runs into another, and another.

It's probably just as well that neither of them manages to hold on for long once they're both moving together. Taiga doesn't have any objections to the idea of dying in bed, but she'd like to do it when she's in her eighties, say, not her twenties. She lolls between them, groaning breathlessly after they finally tense and shout, pretty much in unison, and come and come and come some more. Daiki leans his forehead against her shoulder after, breathing hard, and Ryouta whimpers against her nape.

It's a long damn time before any of them can even think about moving, and even longer before they actually manage to do it. Taiga refuses to bestir herself in the slightest, save to roll herself out of the wet spot, and leaves the clean-up to them—there's no sense in letting them get above themselves, after all. Well, that, and the fact that she honestly doesn't think she can move.

Daiki is (naturally) the first one to flop down next to her. "Fuck," he says, and even he sounds a little impressed. "Fuck, we have _got_ to do that again sometime." He insinuates himself against Taiga and promptly begins to nibble on her ear, because the man never quits.

Taiga flails a hand at Ryouta and manages to drag him down to them. He lands on top of her, warm and comfortable, and immediately nuzzles against her shoulder. "Yeah," she says eventually. "You might be able to talk me into that."


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **#whitnerded**   
> **#Kise and Takao have a surprise for Midorima**   
> **#personally I suspect the two of them have been overindulging in watching Mad Men**

At the end of an excruciatingly long week which has drained him on every possible level, Shintarou lets himself into the apartment he shares with Kazunari and Ryouta with only one thought on his mind: food, a bath, and then bed. It is distinctly possible that he'll just skip the food and the bath in favor of face-planting on the closest flat surface instead.

His two idiots have other plans.

There are definitely moments when Shintarou wonders what on earth he was thinking when he first allowed Kazunari and Ryouta to cross each other's paths, because there is no denying that the two of them are what could charitably be called kindred spirits. (The uncharitable might be inclined to call them menaces.) But then again, he would like to know how he could have kept it from happening: for reasons best known to themselves, they each independently decided that he was the kind of person they wanted to claim as a friend, and with _that_ in common, there probably hadn't been anything in the world that could have kept them apart for long.

At least he can say this much about them: his life is never in danger of becoming boring as long as he has the two of them around.

They meet him at the door before he can even get his shoes off, which is not actually that unusual. Honestly, neither is the fact that Kazunari is wearing a dress, the drapey grey one with the sweetheart neckline and the full skirt that gives him the illusion of having actual hips. That's just Kazunari, who argues that gender norms are unnecessarily and unnaturally restrictive and that a man has the perfect right to feel pretty if he wants to, and consequently suits his actions to his words. (Shintarou's life took a definite turn for the strange when fate threw him and Kazunari together in high school, and there is no doubt about that.) That Ryouta is also wearing a dress, something sleeveless and close-fitting in vivid blue—that's far less ordinary. Both of them are made up, the kind of subtle make-up that enhances and manages to seem as though they aren't wearing any cosmetics at all and just naturally possess smoky eyes and long lashes and delicately pink cheeks and full, pouting lips. (Shintarou knows about these things because of Kazunari and the fact that Ryouta still models, and they like to talk shop.)

He barely gets the time to get a good look at them both, the artfully styled hair and the long legs encased in silk stockings and the nearly identical demure smiles, before they're upon him. "Welcome home," they chorus, moving purposefully. Shintarou is still trying to process what he's seeing when Ryouta relieves him of his bag and Kazunari helps him off with his coat and then his jacket. While he's causing these to disappear, Ryouta kneels to help him out of his shoes and into his slippers, a feat that is really rather impressive given the fact that he is wearing heels. By the time he is rising from this task, Kazunari has, like magic, produced a drink on a tray—a silver tray that Shintarou hadn't even been aware they owned—and is offering it to Shintarou with a smile. 

Shintarou finally discovers his voice. "What on _earth_?"

"We noticed that you were looking a little worn around the edges," Ryouta volunteers, smiling as he takes the cocktail and presses it into Shintarou's hand. "So it seemed like a good idea to do something about that."

Shintarou takes an absent-minded sip of his drink while he decodes that: it was probably Kazunari's idea to begin with, but Ryouta's enthusiasm that refined and expanded upon it. "I see."

Kazunari loops a hand through his arm and begins to draw him in the direction of the kitchen. "We have your dinner waiting for you," he announces, peering up at him from beneath long lashes. Now that he mentions it, Shintarou notices that something does smell good.

It's next to impossible for him to resist the two of them when they've got the bit in their teeth when he's _not_ exhausted, so Shintarou gives in and allows the two of them to escort him to the kitchen, where there's mellow jazz playing and a single place laid at the table. The reason for this becomes apparent in short order. Ryouta whisks a covered plate out of the oven as Kazunari coaxes Shintarou into his seat; after he places the plate in front of Shintarou and uncovers it, Ryouta immediately takes up position behind Shintarou's chair and sets his hands on his shoulders. As he begins to knead them, Kazunari takes charge of the cutlery, doing everything but chewing the food for him. 

Shintarou groans, because the steak is meltingly tender and Ryouta seems to know exactly where each and every one of the knots in Shintarou's muscles is and is apparently determined to coax each one loose. It's bizarre to be waited on like this, but not unpleasant, and he slowly begins to relax into a bemused reverie as the week's awfulness begins to receded under their attentions.

There's dessert to go with dinner, one of the fancy confections from the upscale bakery that Shintarou generally doesn't have the time to visit. Kazunari feeds it to him with his fingers, letting Shintarou lick the pastry cream from them with each bite as Ryouta strokes his thumbs up and down Shintarou's nape, slow and gentle. By the time Shintarou has accepted the last delicate piece of pastry from Kazunari, he's not at all surprised that they immediately coax him up from his seat and chivvy him along to the bedroom, where the bed is already turned down. Ryouta is the first to kiss him, sliding his fingers into Shintarou's hair and holding him as he strokes his tongue over Shintarou's lips, enticing him into parting them and then slipping it into his mouth. Kazunari presses himself against Shintarou's back, his hands warm and sure as he strokes Shintarou's chest. It actually takes Shintarou an embarrassingly long time to realize that Kazunari is undressing him. In his defense, though, he _is_ very tired, and Ryouta mixes drinks with a generous hand. When he reaches back to them, thinking to return the slow caresses, Ryouta catches his hands and twines their fingers together. "Not tonight," he says into Shintarou's mouth. "Just relax and let us take care of you."

There really doesn't seem to be any point in arguing with them, so Shintarou submits himself to this without argument.

Eventually they guide him into bed, settling him against the cool sheets, and dispose themselves around him, pressing close and running their hands over his skin until Shintarou begins to feel as though he's floating in a warm current of pleasure, one that is bearing him away from the real world as he and Kazunari and Ryouta trade kisses back and forth. (It's just as pleasant to settle back and watch them leaning across him to kiss each other as it is to kiss either one of them, which is not something Shintarou would have ever thought to believe, once.) Shintarou lets the warm glow wrap around him until he can hardly tell where it ends and he begins. He groans when Kazunari eases his way down the bed, dropping soft kisses down Shintarou's chest as he goes, and traces his lips over Shintarou's cock. He's too relaxed to do more than make open, wanting sounds against Ryouta's mouth, and Ryouta simply hums back to him, pleased, gathering him closer. He cradles Shintarou against him while Kazunari runs his mouth over him, swirling his tongue over the head of Shintarou's cock and closing his lips around it, sucking softly while he strokes his palms over Shintarou's thighs, soothing the tension out of his muscles. The pleasure of it laps through Shintarou slowly, building almost imperceptibly while Ryouta runs gentle hands over Shintarou's shoulders and chest. Shintarou moans for them both, for the way Kazunari slides his mouth up and down the length of him, deliberately slow, and the way Ryouta holds him and kisses him as though he wants to taste Shintarou's very heart. The crescendo of pleasure builds so gradually that it catches him by surprise when it finally overwhelms him, running over him and singing in his very bones with its sweetness, and the only thing Shintarou can do is give way before it and allow his lovers to hold him safe.

He's barely aware of their hands on him after it finally begins to recede, the gentleness of their touch as they tuck him between the sheets and stroke his hair, and the last thing Shintarou is conscious of before he slips into a deep and dreamless sleep is how glad he is that the two of him have chosen him after all, and the softness of their lips against his forehead as sleep claims him.


End file.
